


The Incident

by amadscientistapproaches



Series: Werewolf AU [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper being a great kid, Gen, I need more of these two, Stan and Dipper bonding, Stan dealing with emotions, The secret is out!, Werewolf AU, everyone's human shaped, look it's a little mini you!, no werewoofers this time, the Mystery Twins are adorable, the development of acrobatic abilities in the face of immodesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 09:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15069878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amadscientistapproaches/pseuds/amadscientistapproaches
Summary: So, the morning after a werewolf transformation is never nice. What's even worse is finding out you've apparently taken leave of your senses and stayed in the living room instead of safely in the attic all night. But the worst, the absolute worst thing, is when you're still trying to process the world through human senses all over again and then your uncle charges in butt-naked and freaking out.It's understandable that Dipper starts screaming.





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the scene from the next morning that everyone (including me) wanted!

Stan came back to himself aching from post-transformation pain. His joints in particular felt fucking awful, but to complete the call to consciousness were a mild headache, a throbbing _face_ -ache, stinging under his fingernails, and hideously sore muscles in every part of his body. It was more than enough to make him miss the usual, everyday pain of waking up.

At least it didn’t last long. Ten minutes, at most. Although, he could swear the recovery time used to be half that. Whatever. Getting old wasn’t ideal in any species, it seemed.

When he felt like he could manage it, Stan cracked his eyes open. His face was pressed into the carpet of his bedroom. His actual bed would have been better, but he figured his four-legged self had been a bit preoccupied with the Change to think of much else. But what could he say? It wasn’t like his two-legged self was any more considerate or forward-thinking. Not that he minded very much. Truth be told, he’d actually never woken up in a place as nice as his bedroom floor. In the beginning it had usually been dirt, or the bit of road next to his car, or, more scarily, a roof, but now it was always the cold, dark, silent basement.

Groggily, he pushed himself up and managed to stand, slowly and carefully. Glasses would be a good thing to look for next, and clothes. He should find them, if they weren’t ripped to shreds. Something told him they were. That was always annoying when that happened.

Half-memories of a really stressful night were floating just out of reach, which must have meant he’d been late getting down to the basement. Actually, he didn’t think he’d even made it to the vending machine.

Well, it didn’t matter now. He’d go make breakfast, wake the kids if they weren’t up already –

He frowned. Something was prodding at his mind. The kids. Something about them. He thought he remembered something about Dipper, something that made him feel . . . whoa, what was that? Was he . . . happy? Stan thought more, narrowing his eyes at a section of wall like it would unlock all his hidden memories. Yep, he was. _Really_ happy. That was weird. Not unpleasant, exactly, but definitely weird.

He thought about Mabel. Hadn’t she been thirsty last night? Or something? She’d wanted some water, and had come into the living room, and he’d been – no, he hadn’t been watching TV, because he’d realised how late it was and, shit, he’d tried to get to the basement but then the moon had lit up like a beacon in the back of his mind and _he’d started to fucking change_ –

Stan almost took the door off its hinges as he ripped it open, launching himself out into the hall and up the stairs to the attic so fast he didn’t draw breath, he didn’t think he could, he didn’t think at all, there was just an endless silent scream building in his chest and _THEY WEREN’T IN THEIR ROOM_ –

He was tearing back downstairs, he was pretty sure his feet didn’t even touch the last six, he was slamming into a wall, pushing himself off, breathing again but only to start yelling, _shit, shit, please, God, please don’t let me have, oh fuck, please let them still be –_

They were.

It was alright.

They were alright.

That was all that mattered to Stan. He was ready to collapse with relief, because there was Mabel, brimming with life and peacefully asleep on the shag carpet, and there was Dipper, already standing, Stan’s absolutely amazing . . . very . . . horrified-looking and . . . naked nephew.

He wasn’t alone. Stan was too.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” Dipper screamed.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” Stan screamed back, hoarser than usual.

“AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!” Mabel joined in, rocketing out of sleep and swinging her fists wildly to fend off an attack.

Dipper – er – streaked to Stan’s armchair, used the seat cushion like a springboard and dove out of sight over the back in a feat of acrobatics Stan hadn’t known he was capable of. The _thump_ of him hitting the floor on the other side was immediately followed by his hand popping back into view and dragging a blanket around too.

Mabel’s eyes landed on Stan and she screamed again, slapping her hands over her face and falling back with her knees curled up to her chest. Stan’s senses returned to him and he unfroze, throwing himself around the other side of the living room entrance.

“Why, morning? Whyyyyy?” he heard Mabel moan.

“There isn’t some sort of magic machine lying around that can instantly wipe away all horrific memories is there?” Dipper’s voice was muffled, like he was buried in the blanket as well as hiding behind the chair.

“I wish,” was his sister’s response.

Stan clutched at his chest, feeling as though he was being wracked with several simultaneous heart attacks. The aftermath of the sprint up and down the Shack was making itself known, as was the collision with the wall. He was furiously fighting back sobs because _oh God they’re alive they’re alive_ , and he was incredibly angry at the same time. What the hell were they doing, not sleeping in their room?! Didn’t they know how dangerous that was, didn’t they _know_ that they had to _stay away from him_ during the full moon-?

No. They didn’t. Of course they didn’t.

_You’re not a werewolf, remember, Stan? You’re completely normal, and human, and of no danger to anyone._

Well that just sounded like a sick joke, now.

The sound of Mabel dry-retching into a cushion brought him back to the current situation. He rolled his eyes at the dramatic antics. He was _certain_ the kids had seen worse things out in the forest – although, actually, when he thought about it, they never had to _revisit_ those horrifying things, whereas they _lived_ with Stan. And anyway, what would’ve been _his_ reaction to seeing Pa naked? They were taking this pretty reasonably, especially Dipper, considering he was almost a teenager and hadn’t had one stitch on himself, either.

But they were definitely going to be asking questions.

Shit, how was he going to get out of this one?

He’d beat them to it, that’s how. He wanted a few answers himself.

“Kid, WHY are you not wearing any clothes?” He barked.

“ _Me?_ Why are _you_ running around the Shack like that? I seriously doubt that it’s part of your regular routine!”

“This is my house and if you’re gonna stay with me, you gotta deal with the consequences! You two can act on your own weird impulses when you have houses to yourselves,”

“I don’t understand why you’d be running _anywhere_! I mean, unless there’s money involved, or the cops, but I don’t see how either of those fit . . .  _this_ ,”

Before Stan could interrupt _that_ particular train of thought – which was heading in a direction he wasn’t sure he was ready for the kids to explore yet – Mabel beat him to it.

“Would you guys just go get dressed already?!”

“Oh, right. Sorry Mabel,”

“Sorry, sweetie,”

Dipper trudged past him a couple seconds later, completely shrouded in the blanket and looking determinedly at the floor through a small opening in the folds. Stan awkwardly followed.

 

The last thing Dipper wanted to do was head back downstairs, but unfortunately, the aftereffects of the Change meant that he was always hungry. He needed breakfast.

Since the Author hadn’t made any entries on werewolves, Dipper had created his own. He’d mentioned that he thought the Change expended a huge amount of energy, which is why he always needed to eat soon after, and why he felt so tired all the time during the full moon. Although, that part may also have been because he was stuck for about four days, constantly alternating between being nocturnal and diurnal. Whatever the reason, he both needed to sleep all the time and couldn’t sleep at all.

One thing that he would _not_ be adding to the Journal was this Incident. Absolutely _no one_ needed to know that he and Mabel had clearly spent the night playing in the living room, fallen asleep, and then he _hadn’t thought to cover himself with a blanket at all._ What if Stan had walked in ten minutes earlier, huh? He would’ve seen the Change, and the next thing Dipper knew, the pitchforks would be out, the torches would be lit, and he would have had to run away and live in the woods, becoming one of the very cryptids he yearned to study!

(Although, if ever there was a town that being a werewolf was unlikely to be an issue in, it was Gravity Falls. But you never knew! Disaster. Was. Always. Waiting.)

And that was another thing! Stan had just _burst_ into the room, right when Dipper was standing up to hurry back up to the attic! _And he had been naked too!_ Dipper had to stop and bury his face in his hands just at the thought. He didn’t know if it was preferable or not that his uncle hadn’t seemed perturbed at the situation. If he thought about it, it _was_ fairly reasonable: he had been there when Dipper and Mabel had been born, and he’d visited a few times when they were growing up; Mom had _framed_ one mortifying photo of him bathing the twins when they were about two. So no, Stan hadn’t experienced as severe a shock as Dipper had that morning: he’d only started freaking out when Dipper had started freaking out.

Dipper frowned. That wasn’t quite right . . .

Hadn’t Stan seemed a little . . . _acutely terrified_ while running into the room? Dipper was sure he’d heard him crash off something as well, and he _looked_ like he’d been about to start yelling the house down.

What was _that_ about?

He could figure it out later. Or maybe not. If it had something to do with his uncle’s nudity, he wasn’t sure he wanted to pry.

Dipper reached the kitchen, where Mabel and Stan were already sitting at the table. His uncle was very silent, and very focused on his bacon and eggs. An agonising second of consideration of how much Dipper _really_ needed to eat was brought to a stop by a loud rumble of his stomach. He caved, mooching around to his chair. Mabel had gotten him double helpings, thankfully. She was also bouncing slightly in her seat, like she had a secret she couldn’t wait to share with him.

“Okay, we need to talk about the large, undressed elephant in the room. No joke intended.” Mabel announced. “Well, actually, maybe a little joke intended.” She added, laughing shamelessly.

Stan grabbed his newspaper and opened it so fast it ripped straight down the middle, leaving him holding a half in each hand, face still unobscured. Dipper pulled his hat low and sank even lower in his seat.

“We really don’t need to,” he protested.

“Yes we do!” Overruled Mabel, shuffling around so she was kneeling on her chair. “Because I _refuse_ to be the only person in this house who knows about this! That is _ridiculous,_ and you two have some stuff you need to talk about!”

“Kid, we really don’t-” Stan tried.

“Are you ready? It’s gonna be a whopper!” Mabel interrupted, raising her voice. “And once I have revealed this awesome truth, you two must share your thoughts and feelings, just get it all out in the open, and then you’ll feel _much_ happier, and hopefully far less lonely!” She slapped her hand onto the table top for emphasis, glaring at them.

“I’m going to open the Shack early,” Stan said, heading for the giftshop.

“Wait-” Mabel started, glare vanishing as he moved away.

“I think there’s probably some dangerous but interesting monster in the forest I can check out,” Dipper said, following Stan into the hall but turning the opposite way for the outside door.

“Wait, guys!” Mabel grabbed the back of Dipper’s vest, pulling him away from the handle even as he strained to get to it. When he turned around to try and pry her fingers off him, he saw that she had Stan in a similar grip, although he was having slightly more luck in moving towards his destination, dragging both kids with him.

“Will you just – ugh fine! This _was_ going to be nice, but you leave me no choice! YOU GUYS ARE BOTH WEREWOLVES!”

Of all the things for his sister to say, that didn’t even make the list of possibilities he’d been coming up with. Dipper tripped over his feet and went sprawling on the floor.

“Ow – wait, _what_?” He looked up at Mabel, completely confused.

_Stan’s a werewolf too?_

“That’s why there was all that-” his sister shuddered – “weirdness this morning. We all just cuddled up in a big pile last night!” She beamed at them both.

Dipper looked at Stan, who was looking back at him. He struggled to regain even the slightest trace of what had happened after his transformation last night. Vaguely, he felt for a moment as though he should be grabbing Mabel and running, getting as far away from Stan as possible. Before he could even begin to puzzle that one out (it was pretty alarming) a far stronger sensation overtook it. He felt . . . happy? _Really_ happy. He wanted to jump around and start hugging people . . . starting with Stan? Yeah. He did. He felt . . . like he wasn’t alone any more. Like, not that he ever really was, because Mabel was right there with him all the time, thankfully, and she was great, and super supportive and nice, but . . . Stan was like him?

Stan was like him!

 

Stan was numb with shock.

He saw a smile start to spread across Dipper’s face, and it was one of those ones that he rarely ever gave Stan, one of the ones that made the similarities between him and sister so, so apparent, that made Stan want to keep it there for as long as he could. It was sheer, utter joy, and Stan didn’t have the faintest idea how to respond. He’d been absolutely terrified barely half an hour ago, and now it was like the needle on the spectrum of emotion had swung all the way around to the opposite end. It shouldn’t be possible to have such an amazing change of emotion in such a short amount of time.

_Dipper’s a werewolf too?_

It crossed his mind that this was a joke, it wasn’t real, but was immediately dismissed. It felt like this _fit_ with the gap in his mind where last night should be.

“I guess you woke up early and went upstairs, Grunkle Stan.” Mabel continued happily. “You’re really soft to lie on, by the way. Perfect for hugging! And really friendly – I mean, once you recognised us. You were a bit confused and scared before then, but it was okay! You figured it out eventually.”

Wait. That was the furthest thing from what Stan knew his other self to be. It was the complete opposite of what he had imagined happening, when he had dared to imagine that nightmare of a scenario at all. He hadn’t panicked this morning for nothing! He’d _seen_ the claw marks he left in machinery sometimes, he’d _felt_ the residual anger and sorrow and – and everything else that made him want to do something violent the next day. Alright, yeah, it wasn’t like he was feeling that _now_ , he was actually feeling pretty good, maybe even a little ecstatic, maybe, but there was no _way_ he was safe to be around! Hell, just when he was human shaped he’d managed to hurt practically everyone around him, ruin everything so much that his brother might be _dead_ , or insane, and Ford had been close enough to that _before_ the damn fight –

But he wouldn’t let something like that happen to the kids. There was _no way_. It was written onto his _core,_ it was so true.

Which meant . . . they were safe around him.

He wasn’t . . . alone?

(Yeesh, it wasn’t like it was a big deal though, it wasn’t like he _needed_ people around him. He’d done fine on his own, and he would keep being fine, and on his own, if he had to be.)

“Grunkle Stan? You okay?” Dipper’s smile was faltering a bit, becoming more concerned.

Dipper was like him?

“I mean, like, sorry if this is too weird. You don’t have to – um, I mean, I think it’s pretty cool, us being the same, but I get it if you don’t really want to talk about it or something. I know it’s not really that, er, nice of a situation, and we probably already have our own ways of dealing with it, so no need to, like, change it up . . . really . . . or anything,” Dipper trailed off, looking embarrassed.

Yep.

Dipper was like him.

And he knew how to get that smile back on his nephew’s face.

“Come here, you knucklehead!”

Dipper squawked as Stan grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a crushing hug that was turned into a noogie so quickly that it might have never happened (the tightness of the way Dipper had returned it was testament to how it had, though).

“You, a terrifying werewolf? What are you gonna do, cute them to death?” Stan teased, mercilessly ruffling the boy’s hair and refusing to let him out of the hold he had him in.

“Grunkle Stan, you don’t know the _half_ of it! He’s so small, I call him a fluff pup!” Mabel laughed. She gasped as a thought struck her. “Wait! I’ve got pictures! Be right back!” She raced upstairs and was back with her scrapbook and camera in moments.

“Hey! I can be – AHH!” Dipper’s protests were turned on their head at the same time he was.

“I guess they’ll bite just about anyone now, huh?” Stan grinned as he lifted his nephew up, caught one his flailing legs in a strong grip, and let the arm under his back drop almost all the way, leaving him to swing around like a pendulum above the ground.

“HE- HEY!” laughed Dipper, trying to catch his breath and completely failing as the blood rushed to his head dizzyingly fast.

“Well yeah, I guess they will if they got you too!” He managed. His hand came out of nowhere and grabbed onto the arm Stan was using to keep him relatively steady, attempting to claw up his sleeve and, impressively, managing to pull himself up part of the way, so that he was a bizarre U-shape in Stan’s grip. Stan couldn’t help but laugh. Mabel snapped a photo.

When he looked at it later, not only was Dipper beaming happier than ever, but so was Stan.

 

_So yeah, today was pretty weird, but it was a good weird. Apparently, Grunkle Stan’s a werewolf too! I did think I wasn’t going to record this morning’s Incident, but I have definitely changed my mind. This is awesome!_

_I can’t believe we went half the summer not realising we were sharing the Shack with **another** supernatural creature. He must have just been really quiet and stayed in his room whenever he transformed. Mabel said that he seemed pretty lonely last night, so I guess that makes sense: he just stayed up there all the time, avoiding people. Although, if that made him lonely, why would he keep doing it? I should ask him, see if he remembers._

_We’ve been talking a little bit. I don’t think he was very comfortable at first with the idea of hanging around us while he’s transformed (I get it, worrying about hurting the people around you is something that does **not** go away easily), but when Mabel insisted that fluffy cuddles were absolutely necessary in order for werewolves to coexist with humans, he laughed and agreed. So I guess we’ll all be camping out in the living room every full moon! _

_I asked when he got bitten, but he didn’t really want to talk about it, so instead Mabel and I told him about how it happened for me. It wasn’t that exciting – just a random stray dog (or so we thought) that was running around in our neighbourhood one night just as we were all getting out of the car. Stan was really interested to hear about how we’ve managed to keep it quiet from **him** , and he wanted to know all about the stuff we’ve gotten up to as a result. Mabel had to tell him all about that stuff. You know how it is (or, at least, Stan does) – werewolf brain and all. _

_After a while Stan had to go open the Shack, but he gave me another hug before he did. I don’t think he realised what he was doing until he’d done it, because he seemed embarrassed afterwards._

_One thing that is **definitely** worth thinking about is how Stan promised he wasn’t hiding anymore bombshell secrets about the town. Well, that obviously isn’t true, and when I investigated further he said that he hadn’t been lying because that was a secret about him, not the town. It was enough of a grey area that Mabel was convinced. Me, on the other hand, not so much. There’s still something he’s hiding and I bet Stan knows I know that. I guess we’ll just have to deal with it whenever it reveals itself, though._

_In the meantime, I’ve finally met another werewolf – and even better, he’s not evil (unless you count regularly committing crimes as evil. Is it weird that I don’t anymore?). Better still, he’s my great uncle! My really great uncle, despite the Incident this morning._

_It’s an unusual thought around this time of the month, but . . . things are looking pretty good._


End file.
